


acts of intimacy

by determination



Category: The Chronicles of Chrestomanci - Diana Wynne Jones
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27441181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/determination/pseuds/determination
Summary: a collection of short christopher/conrad fics based around the theme of nonsexual intimacy.
Relationships: Christopher Chant/Conrad Tesdinic
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	1. finding the other wearing their clothes

**Author's Note:**

> apparently i'm incorrigible and really love christopher/conrad as a pairing. i can't stop writing them lol  
> each chapter will have the prompt i used as a title, and i'll include in the summary what the setting is.  
> for the first chapter, it's: established relationship when they're adults.  
> no criticism or critiques please. i hope you enjoy!

Conrad woke up slowly. He was immensely comfortable and pleasantly warm, and waking up seemed much less enticing than lying in bed for as long as possible. That was, until he had two realizations. One: he was the only one in bed. Two: it was nearly breakfast time already, according to the maid that knocked on the door to rouse him. Conrad forgot his state of undress and sat up, then had to hastily pull the blanket up when the maid stifled a giggle and humored him by averting her eyes.

“Chrestomanci asked me to make sure you were up for breakfast,” she said, still struggling to keep from laughing. “It’ll be ready in ten minutes, if you’d like to eat.”

“Th-thanks,” Conrad muttered. His face was flushed even after the maid excused herself. Had Christopher done that to embarrass him, or was it just a genuine courtesy because he knew Conrad would still be asleep? Both, Conrad sighed. Definitely both.

Taking a moment to stretch and blink the remnants of sleep from his eyes, Conrad reluctantly crawled out of bed. He found his clothes where they’d been discarded at the foot of the bed. Well, most of his clothes. He searched fruitlessly for his sweater, brows knitting with confusion when the article didn’t turn up. 

Conrad frowned and stood by the bed, arms folded across his bare chest. He only had the clothes he’d been wearing, considering he hadn’t originally planned to stay the night. He’d come to give Christopher hard copies of some recent case files of magic misuse from Series Seven. Christopher had convinced him to stay - though, in fairness, Conrad hadn’t needed much convincing. 

And now his sweater was missing. Was this deliberate too? Was Christopher trying to force Conrad to wear something of his? Conrad felt  himself blush, and groaned as he rubbed a hand over his warm face. Ridiculous. Even at this age, Christopher could still be so immature sometimes. 

Conrad had little choice, though, if he wanted to have breakfast, and his stomach assured him he did. He approached Christopher’s wardrobe hesitantly and peered inside. The amount of silk and ruffles he found made him balk. Didn’t Christopher have anything even remotely normal? Conrad really didn’t want to stand out when he went down to eat. Biting his lip, he carded through each option until he finally found a relatively plain button-up shirt with minimal ruffle on the sleeve cuffs. It was much more expensive than anything Conrad usually wore, but it would have to do until he could figure out what Christopher had done with his sweater. Though, he had to adjust the sleeves and cuffs to accommodate his short arms, and even tucked in it still looked somewhat baggy.

After he’d fixed his hair and given himself a look in the mirror to determine that he didn’t look too unpresentable, Conrad exited the room and made his way downstairs, keen for breakfast. The shirt he’d picked was actually quite comfortable, and he couldn’t help feeling giddy about wearing Christopher’s clothes. It smelled like him, too, which was a bonus. 

He found Christopher outside the room where the children ate breakfast, where he was having a conversation with the young enchanter - Cat, Conrad recalled. Cat saw Conrad coming before Christopher did, and Conrad opened his mouth to greet the boy before he recognized what Christopher was wearing and came to a stop a few steps away. So that’s where his sweater had gone. 

Cat glanced between Christopher and Conrad, looking consternated. He interrupted whatever Christopher had been telling him to say, “You switched clothes. I thought something was different.”

Christopher seemed annoyed to have been cut off, but he turned his head to see Conrad standing there and immediately broke into a grin which seemed to mystify Cat. “Ah, Grant, good morning. A fine choice, that one. Though I would have enjoyed if you’d chosen one of the silk shirts, as well.” 

Conrad blushed. He could see where Christopher had rolled up the sleeves of his sweater to conceal that it was too short for his long arms. The result was that Conrad found himself staring at Christopher’s bare wrists, and thinking that Christopher looked very cute in the plain sweater. It was a drastic change from his usual extravagant outfits and dressing gowns. 

“Good morning,” he returned, giving Christopher a look. “Is there a reason you stole my sweater, or am I to infer that you simply felt like dressing down today?”

Christopher pretended to be surprised and peered down at the article of clothing as if he were seeing it for the first time. “Oh, is that what I put on this morning? I hadn’t realized.” His cheeky grin said the opposite. Conrad rolled his eyes.

“Were we done?” Cat asked. He was looking longingly back toward the door. “I’d really like to go eat now.” 

Christopher thought for a moment, trying to remember what he’d been saying before Conrad arrived. The train of thought was effectively lost, and he sighed after a few seconds and nodded. “Yes, for now. Just be sure to let Marianne know our lesson for the day has been moved to tomorrow.”

Cat nodded pensively, hand on the doorknob. He paused, though, and said, “You weren’t very clear about why, but I guess the reason we’re doing the lesson tomorrow is because Mr. Tesdinic is here.” 

“Something like that,” Christopher said with a vague look, which of course meant yes. “Off you go, Cat. Enjoy your breakfast.” The boy gave Conrad a shy smile before ducking into the room and closing the door after him. When he’d gone, Christopher gestured for Conrad to follow him, and they made their way downstairs. 

“Is that alright, to reschedule their lesson?” Conrad asked. “I’d hate to impose.”

Christopher laughed and gave him a humorous smile. “Oh, Grant, you could never impose. Besides, how else am I to keep you from leaving?” 

Conrad’s eyes widened. “Is  _ that _ why you stole my sweater? So I would stay for longer? You really could’ve just asked, you know.”

“And let you say no? Don’t be silly,” Christopher said airily. Conrad rolled his eyes again and shook his head, but he couldn’t help grinning. This was so like Christopher that he didn’t have the heart to be annoyed. That, and the fact that Christopher didn’t want him to leave made him very glad indeed. 

It couldn’t hurt to spend another day here. And another night, at that. He was rather eager to repeat the events from last night. Christopher had been so eager, perhaps because it had been so long since that’d last seen each other. Conrad’s face felt warm as he remembered the more vivid details.

“Come now, don’t get too ahead of yourself,” Christopher chuckled, seeming to have figured out where Conrad’s thoughts had gone. Conrad blushed and looked away, and Christopher laughed, caught him by the hand, and tugged him close to give him a quick kiss on the mouth. Conrad couldn’t help humming and lingering on Christopher’s lips. “We’ll pick that up later, you have my word.” There was a purr to that statement that sent a shiver down Conrad’s spine. Now  _ that _ he was willing to wait for.


	2. holding hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conrad forgot his gloves and Christopher decided to help him warm up.  
> Established relationship, takes place when Conrad is staying at Chrestomanci Castle.

Winter was, in Conrad’s opinion, the best time of the year. No one else at Chrestomanci Castle agreed with him, but that didn’t surprise him. He’d grown up in the mountains, where cold temperatures and snow were a regular occurrence. When the air grew frigid and frost clung to trees, Conrad felt right at home. That, and he was of the opinion that winter produced the best aesthetic for photographs. 

The first real snow to hit the castle came early, toward the end of October. It wasn’t a snowstorm by any means, but it left the grounds blanketed in a coat of white that left Conrad breathless with enthusiasm. He was more than ready to rush outside, camera in hand, to capture the premature shift in weather in all its powdery glory. 

Millie made him promise to show her the photographs once he got them developed, which was flattering because Conrad wasn’t used to other people enjoying his photography. It made him happy, though, and he did his best to take a variety of shots outside the castle, of both the building and the grounds. If he really focused his magic, he could hide the castle’s spells from the photographs when he snapped them so that the pictures would turn out clear - if he left the spells in the pictures, everything usually turned out very fuzzy and odd-looking, which would always ruin a nice photograph. 

He was just taking a picture of some of the frost-tipped trees when he heard a call from behind him. His heart raced as he lowered the camera and turned toward the sound of the voice, watching as Christopher crossed the snowy field to reach him. “Grant,” Christopher greeted, “There you are! You’re a difficult boy to find, you know that?”

Conrad blushed, or perhaps it was simply the chilly air. “Sorry,” he said earnestly. “I meant to tell you I was going out, but I got too excited.”

Christopher instantly brushed this off and gave him a dazzling grin. “Nothing to apologize for, I assure you.” But after a moment, the grin vanished, replaced by concern. “Grant, where are your gloves?”

“My-?” Conrad was suddenly aware of the dull ache in his red, raw fingers. The temperature had steadily dropped the longer he’d been outside, but his interest in taking pictures had proven distracting enough that he hadn’t noticed until now. “Ah,” he said, shivering, “It’s too hard to use my camera when I wear them.”

Pursing his lips, Christopher took a step closer. “Fair enough. But couldn’t you have at least used some magic for protection? The wind is rather biting.” As if to demonstrate, Christopher drew his scarf tighter around his neck. 

Conrad didn’t want to admit that the thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Thankfully, an excuse came to him before he opened his mouth. “I didn’t want to risk ruining any of the pictures,” he answered. “I was already using magic to hide the castle spells, anyway. I doubt I could have managed both at once. I haven’t really gotten the knack for multitasking spells yet.”

“Perhaps so, but…” Christopher didn’t sound convinced. He thought, then slipped his own gloves off and gestured for Conrad. “Here, give me your hands.”

“Huh?” Conrad said, but he was already letting go of his camera to let it hang from his neck. Christopher’s elegant fingers closed around Conrad’s aching ones. The contact made Conrad’s insides tingle. After a few seconds, he felt warmth emanating from Christopher’s palms, which quickly enveloped his hands and blocked out the bitter icy breeze. He let out a quiet, appreciative sigh. “That feels good. What are you doing?”

“A very low grade fire spell,” Christopher said, cheeky. “Weak enough that it won’t burn the skin, but warm enough to get your blood circulating like it ought to be.” He met Conrad’s gaze with an inquisitive look. “You ought to take better care of your hands. How can you expect to use your camera if you give yourself frostbite?” 

Conrad averted his gaze to the snow-covered ground. Christopher had a point. If Conrad intended to keep taking photographs, he needed a better strategy. Especially once winter actually hit. Exhaling slowly, he raised his eyes and smiled at Christopher. “Thanks for looking out for me, Christopher,” he mumbled, happy for the care.

Christopher blushed at that. It was easy to see because his face hadn’t quite gone rosy yet from being outdoors - unlike Conrad, he didn’t have the cold as an excuse. And that made Conrad beam with pleasure. He loved seeing Christopher lose his composure, even if only for a moment. “It’s… Of course,” Christopher muttered. He was still holding Conrad’s hands in his own, and seemed like he didn’t want to let go. “A-anyway, haven’t you taken enough photographs? We could go in and have a hot drink. That would help you warm up.”

There was a nice proposal. Conrad rather hoped Christopher’s idea of warming up consisted of getting a mug of cocoa and curling up together under the comforter from one of their beds.

“Alright,” he acquiesced quickly. A giddy shudder went down his spine when Christopher led him by the hand back toward the castle. 

He was quite glad to find out his hopes were confirmed. He felt much, much warmer on Christopher’s bed, sipping cocoa and exchanging cocoa-flavored kisses.


	3. having their hair washed by the other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitchen mishaps, and making up for them.  
> Pre-relationship, takes place at Stallery.

Conrad’s stomach growled as he reached the attics. Now that he was alone, he released the sigh he’d been withholding. He was sticky and uncomfortable, and getting clean was more a priority than eating at the moment - though he was disappointed to be missing dinner. He hoped someone would save food for him. Maybe Christopher, if he was feeling considerate. After all, it was Christopher’s fault Conrad had to forgo the meal.

They’d been making cooking attempts with Mr. Maxim. Omelettes again, which thankfully weren’t changed halfway through because of a probability shift - and Christopher had the brilliant idea to tip the bowl of eggs to see how much was left. It turned out the bowl was more slippery than he’d realized and the whole thing flipped and sent egg flying. Most of it landed, to Conrad’s utter dismay, on Conrad. Christopher himself appeared to use magic to avoid getting dirty, and thankfully Mr. Maxim hadn’t noticed because his back was turned, but when he looked back and saw what had happened, he went very red in the face and looked like he wanted to shout at them. He would have blamed Conrad, surely, had Christopher not stepped in to announce that it was his fault. Conrad appreciated the honesty. Being covered in raw egg was uncomfortable enough; he didn’t think he could have handled being scolded for something that wasn’t his fault. Christopher looked extra guilty when they were dismissed for dinner after that. 

Mr. Maxim told Conrad to wash up, and so he’d come all the way up the attics to clean his uniform and wash his hair. He stared at himself in the mirror as he began filling the bath. He certainly looked as tired and exasperated as he felt. With another sigh, he gingerly picked a glob of egg yolk out of his hair. Eggs were good to eat, but after this he wasn’t sure he could stomach them again. At least not for a while. The slimy texture was thoroughly off-putting. 

As he was undressing, he heard a knock at the door. “Just a minute-” He said, and started to put his egg-covered shirt back on, but, to his alarm, the door opened anyway. He was relieved to see it was only Christopher. But this quickly gave way to confusion. Why had Christopher left dinner-? Oh, Christopher had brought food with him, for some reason. 

“Ah, good,” Christopher said, grinning when he saw Conrad hadn’t yet gotten cleaned up. He set the food on the bathroom counter. “I came to help.”

“Help?” Conrad repeated, eyes widening. He could feel himself beginning to blush. “That’s not necessary. You should have just eaten downstairs-”

“The food’s for both of us, once you’re clean,” Christopher cut him off airily. “And besides, it was my mistake. It’d be remiss of me not to take responsibility.” His grin turned lazy and smug, and if Conrad wasn’t currently embarrassed by the whole situation, he would have wanted to hit Christopher.

“Quit joking around,” he said instead, choosing to ignore Christopher. He went back to undressing and turned the bath water off before the tub was too overfilled. “Thanks for bringing my dinner, but you really don’t need to stay. I can take care of myself.” 

Christopher looked slightly wounded at that, or perhaps he felt guilty again. “I didn’t mean to insinuate- Of course you can take care of yourself, Grant.” Conrad’s eyes narrowed as he lowered himself into the bath. The warm water was quite pleasant and went some ways toward allaying his irritation. “But, might I get you to reconsider? This is a free pass for a favor. You wouldn’t owe me anything in return, and you wouldn’t have to waste your energy on washing. A good deal, wouldn’t you say?” 

“... Why are you so insistent?” Conrad asked. He was beginning to acquiesce, though. It did sound very nice, to have someone else to wash for him. For a little while he could imagine he was part of the Family, getting looked after, instead of learning the part of a valet and being seen as less valuable than a piece of furniture. 

“I feel bad,” Christopher confessed with a shrug. “Like I said, it was my mistake that caused you to miss dinner. Shouldn’t I make it up to you, then?”

Conrad wasn’t sure he understood. But, underneath the smugness and confidence, Conrad thought Christopher must be an honest person. He must have really felt responsible and wanted to make amends. And, if Conrad were honest, the offer was tempting. The last time he’d had someone else help him wash was before Anthea left. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to indulge, even if only for a fleeting moment.

“Alright,” Conrad said, and blushed a bit when Christopher’s face lit up. “But make it quick. I want to eat before the food gets cold.”

“As you wish,” Christopher winked at him and did a little flourish of a bow. And yes, Conrad was definitely blushing now. Couldn’t Christopher do anything in a normal manner? Oh well. Conrad supposed it wasn’t so bad.

Christopher rolled up his sleeves and approached the edge of the bathtub. Conrad turned round, partly because he was embarrassed, but also because he reasoned it would be easier for Christopher if he sat with his back toward him. Now that he couldn’t see Christopher, though, he had no way of knowing when Christopher would touch him. He heard the sound of soap lathering, and started when he felt Christopher’s hands on his head. 

“Soft hair,” Christopher commented, sounding surprised. “I would wager it’s softer when it doesn’t have egg matted in it.” Conrad snorted. “Well, I guess we should be grateful,” Christopher went on, working shampoo into Conrad’s scalp, “that Mr. Maxim didn’t make us cook you into an omelette as punishment.” 

Conrad stifled a laugh and tilted his head to give Christopher a look. Christopher was grinning. “That was bad, even for you,” Conrad said. 

With a click of his tongue, Christopher replied, “They can’t all be winners, Grant.” He sounded satisfied, though. Conrad thought the reason he’d said it was to make Conrad laugh, and that cheered him up a good deal. So Christopher could be considerate, huh.

Having someone else wash his hair was as pleasant as he remembered. Christopher was surprisingly gentle, and carefully kept at it until all traces of egg were quite gone. Conrad didn’t even complain about how long it took - he was much too pleased by the warm, cared-for feeling that was currently residing in his chest. He didn’t even mind so much when Christopher also helped clean the eggs off his neck. Thankfully the neck cloth had caught most of it, but he was still a little sticky under his chin. 

Christopher chuckled and said, “Turn towards me.” So Conrad did, and he got a faceful of Christopher’s soft expression. And Christopher’s hands, which gently wiped remnants of egg off his nose and cheeks. He felt his face grow quite warm. “There. All clean,” Christopher nodded and smiled. 

Conrad indeed felt much cleaner. And warm all over, but he chose to ignore that in favor of getting out of the bath and drying off. “Thanks,” he said quietly. Then he noticed his uniform, neatly folded and looking as clean as he felt. “Did you do that?” he asked, eyes wide. Christopher looked vague and shrugged, and Conrad could only imagine he’d used magic to clean the clothes while he’d been washing Conrad’s hair. Which was a relief, because Conrad had forgotten to get his spare clothes before he got into the bath. “... Thank you,” he repeated, with more feeling. 

“Think nothing of it,” Christopher said, grinning. “Hurry and get dressed so we can eat. I’m starving.”


	4. falling asleep with their head in the other’s lap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christoper's napping habits.  
> Pre-relationship, takes place when Conrad is staying at Chrestomanci Castle.

Conrad and Millie sat in Christopher’s room. The three of them had been chatting until Christopher got called away for some talk or another with Gabriel de Witt. Conrad assumed it had something to do with learning about the Chrestomanci position because Christopher had somehow looked both enthusiastic and reluctant, which he usually looked whenever it came to his guardian and his future position. It was hard to blame him; even though he and Gabriel were on considerably better terms than when Conrad first arrived, the two would probably always be like oil and water. They just didn’t mix.

Millie had begun working on homework her teachers had assigned over the holiday break, so Conrad had brought his notebook and the latest pictures he’d developed from his camera, to go over his notes and review the photographs. If Millie was working, he thought he should as well. He spread things out on Christopher’s bed and did his best to focus.

Before long, Christopher flounced back into the room looking moody. Perhaps the talk hadn’t gone very well, Conrad thought. Millie confirmed it for him when she asked, without lifting her eyes from her schoolwork, “He wouldn’t listen again, would he?”

“Of course not,” Christopher answered sullenly. “Old fool won’t consider doing anything outside tradition, even when tradition fails. You’d think I proposed something outrageous! All I did was suggest approaching certain cases from outside the box. You should have seen the look on his face. How dare I question how he’s done his job.” With a sigh and a melodramatic slump of his shoulders, Christopher trained his eyes to Conrad, who jumped a little at the sudden attention. The older boy crossed the room and made to throw himself on the bed, so Conrad hastily moved all of his photographs and notes aside. But Christopher hesitated and stared at Conrad. 

Conrad blinked back, confused. “Er?” he said.

Christopher continued to stare at him and gestured with his eyes toward Conrad’s folded legs. “Is that available?” Christopher asked. 

More confused than before, Conrad hurried to move his notebook and photographs off his legs. “Yes?” he tried. He squeaked when Christopher proceeded to collapse onto the bed and his head landed on Conrad’s thighs. 

“Thanks,” Christopher said. He adjusted onto his side to curl his long legs up against himself, wrapped one arm lazily over Conrad’s legs, and closed his eyes.

“Huh?” Conrad blurted. 

Christopher was very warm and Conrad wasn’t used to Christopher being this close. He was generally a touchy-feely person, but that was usually just a hand on Conrad’s back or shoulder. Christopher’s head on his lap was quite new, and made his face turn rather red the longer he gazed down at Christopher’s pretty side profile. His eyelashes were long and fluttered against his pale cheeks. His lips were a pleasing pink, and Conrad stared perhaps a little hard at them  until he heard Millie speak and quickly looked away.

“You won’t be getting that back anytime soon,” Millie chuckled. She was watching the pair of them with obvious amusement from where she sat on the floor, quill twiddling between her fingers. “When he gets like that, only a lap-nap will set him to rights.”

“Why are you talking like I’m not still awake?” Christopher said irritably. “I’m perfectly capable of explaining it myself.”

“Sure.” Millie raised a brow. “So you’re saying you would have told Con you prefer to doze off on someone you like when you’re frustrated with Gabriel, instead of just going right to sleep, if I hadn’t just said something?”

Conrad watched Christopher’s face grow a little rosy at that. Apparently he had not actually planned to explain. Conrad could feel himself blushing too, though he was flattered to know Christopher liked him enough to want his lap for the occasion. He found himself wondering if Christopher had only chosen him because Millie’s lap was currently occupied by her schoolwork. 

“Don’t let him fool you, Con,” Millie said. She had gone back to her work now, but Conrad saw she was grinning madly. “He whined to me the last couple times about how much he wanted your lap, but you were usually somewhere else.” Christopher’s head shot up so he could glare at her, but she ignored him and hummed. 

“There is such a thing as oversharing,” Christopher grumbled, then huffed and laid his head down again. He was pouting, which Conrad found very cute. Even if Christopher was annoyed, Conrad was glad Millie had said so. He liked knowing that Christopher wanted him. 

With a sudden surge of confidence, Conrad shifted and brought one hand to gently run his fingers through Christopher’s hair. Christopher’s eyes flicked open to glance at him, perhaps caught off guard by the touch, but he seemed to quickly relax and made a small contented noise before closing his eyes again. Conrad took this as permission to continue. 

As he ran his fingers through Christopher’s hair, whatever spell Christopher had used to straighten his locks came loose. Conrad was delighted to find curls between his fingers. They were soft and pleasant to touch, and he was more than happy to keep brushing his hand through Christopher’s hair. He hoped the sensation was comforting to Christopher. 

Soon, he felt Christopher’s breathing slow. He was a bit heavier on Conrad’s lap, and his face looked peaceful. Conrad gazed down at him and couldn’t help smiling fondly.


	5. seeing the other cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conrad has a nightmare.  
> Pre-relationship, takes place when Conrad is staying at Chrestomanci Castle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i made myself sad writing the nightmare. i feel like conrad would definitely still have a lot of pent-up fear and anxiety about his uncle and the walker. somebody give that boy a hug :'(

Conrad was certain he was dreaming. He had the sort of surreal, light feeling you usually had when you were conscious but mostly asleep. His room was the same as ever, and he was still lying in bed, the blankets pulled up over him, but he was on his back instead of his side, which wasn’t how he usually slept. And something felt wrong. It was the weird sort of twisting darkness that clung to the corners of the room, as if his eyes were too heavy to stay open, and his tiredness somehow kept warping the room into little spirals and throbbing patterns that were always at the corners of his eyes. 

I want to wake up, he thought uncomfortably. But that of course never worked, and always left him wondering if he actually was dreaming at all. If it was a dream, shouldn’t he be able to wake himself up? Maybe not.

A few times he thought he heard someone knock at the door. He might also have dreamed that someone came in to chat with him, perhaps Millie or Christopher. The darkness always hung low and covered whoever it was, so Conrad couldn’t tell for sure. That just frustrated him. He tried to open his eyes wider, but the darkness shifted with him. He glared, and it shifted with that, too. 

In exasperation, he screwed his eyes shut. Everything went dark, then, and for a few blissful seconds, he felt calmness start to wash over him. This wasn’t so bad. Maybe he could actually rest like this. 

But soon a smell reached his nose. It was chillingly familiar, a particular icy smell that sent a shiver down his spine. Fear gripped him. He didn’t want to open his eyes because he thought he knew what he’d find if he did. Against his better judgment, he did open his eyes. To his horror, he saw the vast emptiness behind his room, the familiar, vacant horizon with its freezing winds you couldn’t feel. 

And there in the distance, he saw it coming: a Walker.  _ No _ , he thought, mortified, I didn’t summon one! Why was it coming? He couldn’t make any sense of it, but that didn’t change the fact that he could very clearly see the short, quick steps of the being as it came, and its hair and clothes blowing around in the wind but not moving at all. Then, as it got closer, he realized it didn’t have much hair. It appeared to be wearing pyjamas, too, which was strange. 

When it was close enough, Conrad realized he recognized those pyjamas. He thought his heart might stop. He was frozen with terror as the Walker reached his room and came up to the edge of his bed. It seemed to tower over him, yet at the same time it was the same height Conrad remembered. The Walker looked like Uncle Alfred, the way he’d looked when he’d been carried off from the book shop. No, the Walker  _ was _ Uncle Alfred. Conrad could see its face now, the same white face and long dark eyes and underneath that was the face he remembered. 

He trembled with fear, but he found he couldn’t move. Everything in him screamed to run, to get as far away as he could. Yet he was stuck in bed, trembling and clutching his blankets and feeling the wetness of tears on his cheeks. Was he crying? He was too distracted by the Walker’s sudden movement, and jumped as it leaned over him, its gaunt face drawing closer.

It spoke in a voice that seemed to ring with vast emptiness. “I come for you,” it said.

Conrad shook his head. He was definitely crying now, mute sobs that made his body quake. He shrank back into his bed as the Walker reached a hand toward him. “No!” he cried out, and pulled the blanket over his head. The hand grabbed and pulled at the blanket, and he tried desperately to keep it over him, trembling all over. 

“It’s your fault,” Uncle Alfred’s voice came from the Walker, which just made Conrad whimper and flinch away. He managed to find some strength and kicked at the hand, which knocked the Walker away. That didn’t last long though, and after a few seconds, the blanket was wrenched away and the Walker was inches from him. Conrad froze again, eyes wide with sheer terror. The thing looked horrible, like death. It leaned closer, hands closing around Conrad’s throat. “You should have died,” the Walker said, its horrible face twisting into a smile. 

Conrad felt the fingers tightening and coughed as he fought to breathe. No… No! He didn’t want to die! 

“...rad! Conrad, wake up!” A new voice cut into the fog that had begun encroaching his vision. Slowly, Conrad realized there was no Walker. He had been dreaming after all. The image faded like smoke, but the fear remained. He was still shaking and crying. He felt different hands on him, holding him tightly, comforting hands, like when Anthea would hug him after he’d had a nightmare.

“Ch-Christopher?” he choked out weakly. He felt so cold and tired, and Christopher’s grip on him was warm. He lunged and grabbed onto Christopher and clung, burying his face against Christopher’s chest. 

“Thank heavens,” Christopher murmured, profoundly relieved. Conrad was relieved, too. He had no idea how or why Christopher was here, but he was so thankful the Walker had been a dream that he didn’t care to question Christopher’s presence. 

Christopher hugged him and gently stroked his back and head. Conrad thought Christopher must have used some kind of magic because he could feel himself getting calmer, and though the trembling hadn’t stopped, he managed to stop crying enough to whisper, “Th-thank you.”

Christopher shifted to look at his face, smiling sympathetically. “Don’t mention it,” he said, running his fingers through Conrad’s hair. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

With a shudder, Conrad recalled the vividness of the nightmare. He clung to Christopher and was grateful when Christopher began to rub his back comfortingly. “W-Walker,” he muttered. “It… it was my uncle. It came to… to…” He couldn’t bring himself to say more. The dream had felt so real that his sleep-addled brain was certain if he explained fully it would somehow bring the dream to reality.

All the same, Christopher seemed to understand. His grip on Conrad tightened protectively. “He’s gone,” Christopher said definitively. “He’ll never come back. I promise he can’t hurt you, Conrad.”

There must have been magic in those words, too, because Conrad found himself instantly believing them and feeling much safer. Christopher was, after all, a nine-lifed enchanter. Even if something did happen, he could easily protect Conrad. Maybe he was even protecting Conrad at that moment. That thought was so comforting that Conrad gave a watery smile and reached up to touch Christopher’s face with shaking hands. Christopher seemed surprised, but didn’t stop him. 

When Conrad felt a little more stable, he adjusted his position. He knew he was putting all of his weight on Christopher and felt bad for it, but Christopher seemed reluctant to let him go. He was thankful for that, too, because the few seconds he was apart from Christopher brought back some of the fear from before. Christopher moved to lie down and pulled Conrad against him. This was much better, and Conrad curled up against Christopher’s body and felt very warm and secure.

“Do you need anything?” Christopher asked. Conrad could tell he was ready to conjure anything Conrad might ask for, which was equally comforting. Conrad couldn’t remember the last time he’d been looked after like this. Definitely not since he was younger. Come to think of it, the last time he’d had such a vivid nightmare must have been a long time ago as well. He could only vaguely recall Anthea frantically waking him up and staying with him until he had calmed down enough to sleep again. 

Despite how tired he felt, Conrad knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Even with Christopher’s pleasant warmth around him, he could still remember the icy chill of the Walker from his nightmare, and if he closed his eyes, he could see the horrible face of his uncle leering over him. He shuddered and clutched at Christopher’s sleeves until he found Christopher’s hand. Christopher willingly took his hand and gave it a small, encouraging squeeze. 

“Can you…” Conrad swallowed thickly, cleared his throat, and asked, “Can you talk to me? Just. Tell me anything. Whatever you can think of.”

Christopher gazed quizzically at him for a moment before smiling. “Alright. Well, if it’s a distraction you need, you’ll be glad to know I’ve a wealth of knowledge to share. I’ve been to many of the related worlds, you know, and…”

Christopher talked for some time. He told Conrad all about the worlds he’d visited, about the climates and the cultures and the peoples. Conrad was quite fascinated by how different they could be, and Christopher was so detailed that Conrad could easily picture what he described. Steadily, he felt himself get calmer, until he was calm enough to let his eyes close. This time, he found himself seeing tropical trees, and little fishing towns by vast oceans, and creatures that he’d never thought might exist even in his wildest dreams. 

When Christopher deemed ready, he started to get up. Conrad latched onto him again without thinking. It wasn’t out of fear this time, though. He just genuinely didn’t want Christopher to leave. He was very comfortable with Christopher lying next to him. “Stay,” he mumbled sleepily. “Please,” he added, fingers caught in the fabric of Christopher’s pyjama shirt.

Christopher laughed. He sounded sleepy, too. He hesitated for only a moment before he settled back down, arms wrapped around Conrad. “Alright,” he replied, “I’m too tired to go back to my own room anyway.”

Conrad didn’t remember falling asleep after that. The next thing he knew, he was waking up in the morning, warm, with Christopher’s limbs tangled with his. He smiled and shifted closer, grateful beyond words.


	6. eye contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conrad gets distracted.  
> Pre-relationship, takes place when Conrad is staying at Chrestomanci Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you ever just think about how christopher chant is like canonically the most attractive man to ever exist

Conrad knew it was wrong to get distracted during lessons. He wanted to pay attention, of course. He would listen to Flavian’s voice and do his best to take in the information, jotting down notes or words that seemed important. 

But, inevitably, Conrad would glance over at Christopher. Christopher always looked like he had a harder time concentrating than Conrad did, wearing that vague expression that made him look like his mind was completely elsewhere. Conrad didn’t think that was the case. Christopher had a knack for hiding just how attentive he really was, and Conrad wondered if that could be the case here, too. 

And, inevitably, Conrad would stare at Christopher. It was easy to do because Christopher was really too pretty for his own good. Even when he looked vague, Conrad could see his long eyelashes that drew attention to his dark eyes. Conrad thought those eyes were very pretty. He liked Christopher’s curls, too, but he also liked the style Christopher had taken to wearing with his hair slicked back, since that made it very easy to see his eyes, as well as the rest of his handsome features. Christopher’s cheekbones were slightly gaunt in an aristocratic way, and the shape of his nose gave him a sort of regal look, like he was the son of the king himself. Then there were his eyebrows, which were perfectly shaped and accentuated the shape of his eyes. And if Christopher wore his shirts with the first two buttons undone, Conrad was blessed by the sight of some of the prettiest collarbones to ever exist.

Conrad could go on forever once he got started. The problem, he thought, was that Christopher was simply too good looking. Which was rather unfair, considering he could be so infuriating sometimes. If Conrad looked at him, he couldn’t help noticing all of the little things that made Christopher so handsome, and then it was too difficult to think about anything else, no matter how interesting Flavian’s lesson had been. 

Then Christopher would look over at Conrad and smirk, and Conrad’s heart would skip a beat, and he’d realize with shame that he’d completely missed whatever Flavian had said. This time, Flavian was watching Conrad with a look of dismay, which made Conrad feel worse. Usually he didn’t get caught when he got distracted by Christopher; it must have been bad for Flavian to notice.

“Do you have any idea what sort of spell would suit the situation I described, Conrad?” Flavian asked with a frown. 

Conrad had no ideas at all. He didn’t even know what Flavian was talking about because he’d tuned out before he got to whatever this subject was. Conrad looked down at his blank notebook page and tried not to audibly sigh. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, blushing when he heard Jason snicker and Elizabeth giggle from their desks behind him. “I-I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Flavian folded his arms across his chest and scrutinized Conrad for an excruciating couple of seconds. “That much is clear, yes. You’re a diligent pupil, so I’ll let it go, but please do try to keep your wits about you. It wouldn’t do to make a mistake or put yourself in a tight spot because of… shall we say, flights of fancy.” His wording caused Conrad’s blush to brighten, and Conrad very deliberately avoided lifting his gaze because he could tell both Flavian and Christopher were still looking at him and he wasn’t sure which made him more unnerved.

Conrad focused solely on the lesson after that. He didn’t want to embarrass himself further. It was difficult because he could feel Christopher still watching him, and a part of him wanted to look at Christopher and see what sort of expression he wore. Was he amused, perhaps? Or curious? Did he know what Conrad thought of him? That thought was even more embarrassing. Bother, he’d gotten side-tracked again. No more thinking about Christopher, at least not until Flavian let them go.

He wasn’t surprised when Christopher cornered him after they left the schoolroom. He’d anticipated it, but he still couldn’t help blushing when he saw Christopher smirking. It was unfair that he could be so smug after embarrassing Conrad like that. If Conrad wasn’t so busy avoiding Christopher’s gaze, he would have smacked him.

“What was that about, Grant?” Christopher asked in an infuriatingly casual manner. 

“Nothing,” Conrad muttered, “I just got distracted is all.” It was futile to lie, even white lie, to Christopher because he was tenacious when he knew you did. He’d get the truth out of you no matter what, and it was obvious he knew Conrad wasn’t being entirely truthful.

One of Christopher’s brows quirked up in amusement. “Distracted by what?” Conrad swallowed hard but stayed quiet, which made Christopher laugh, and that made Conrad blush. “You don’t honestly think I didn’t notice you staring, do you? You were boring holes into my head, Grant. If there’s something you want to say, then you’d better get it off your chest.” 

Something Conrad wanted to say? Did Christopher think Conrad wanted something other than to just look at his stupidly attractive face? Or did he just want Conrad to admit the reason he’d been staring? Whatever it was, Conrad knew he’d just be embarrassing himself even more if he explained it.

“Really, it was nothing,” he said. 

“Nothing?” Christopher laughed again. “Then why won’t you meet my eyes, hm?” There was something of a pull in his voice. Conrad thought he recognized it as performative speech, since they’d learned about it recently. Christopher was using him as practice, and his magic was so strong that Conrad felt himself looking up despite his desire not to.

“... You’re really pretty,” Conrad mumbled, and blushed brighter than ever. “It’s distracting.”

“Is it? I had no idea.” Christopher beamed. Conrad gave him a very put out look.

“Prig,” was all Conrad could say. He was beginning to feel quite flustered, being able to see Christopher this closely without the added guilt of missing their lesson. He really was too handsome with that stupid smirk on his face. It should’ve been illegal to be that attractive.

“Feel free to look all you want,” Christopher told him smugly. Conrad did want to smack him, but resisted and instead traced the features on Christopher’s face with his eyes. With Christopher’s permission, Conrad stared for a little while. Then, when he met Christopher’s eyes, he realized with a start that Christopher had a fond look in them. His smile had softened, too, to something more tender. Conrad was struck by the intimacy of this, and ended up averting his gaze out of embarrassment, which got Christopher to laugh. 

“Unfair,” Conrad grumbled.

“I know,” Christopher hummed, sounding less than apologetic. “Not my fault, though.”

Conrad wanted to say that it very much was, but he accidentally thought about Christopher’s soft smile and that made his brain temporarily shut down. He could only roll his eyes and futilely will the blush from his cheeks. 

But only until Christopher cleared his throat and asked, “Had your fill, then?” And if Conrad thought about it, he wasn’t even remotely finished. He could probably stare at Christopher for hours, given the opportunity, but he doubted Christopher would enjoy that very much. 

“No,” Conrad said honestly, and Christopher snorted. “... A little longer, if that’s okay,” he added, and looked at Christopher once more. Christopher was still wearing that same fond expression. Conrad’s heart fluttered.

Christopher took hold of Conrad’s arm. In a brief rush of air, Conrad found himself in Christopher’s room, having been transported there by Christopher’s magic. Christopher led him to the edge of the bed where he sat both of them down. It was definitely more comfortable than standing, Conrad thought. Then Christopher smiled and all of Conrad’s thoughts went on vacation.

“Take your time,” Christopher said. So Conrad did.


	7. flirting/date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Appreciating art.  
> Established relationship, takes place when Conrad is staying at Chrestomanci Castle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i've been experimenting writing first person (to match conrad's fate). it's kinda fun (though i'm not sure if it suits my writing haha);;  
> (additionally. i like imagining that christopher is interested in art/art history)

“That will be all for today,” Gabriel said dryly. I was surprised that he was ending our lesson early today, by at least half an hour. I was ready to spend the rest of the day relaxing, but I could see Christopher’s expression out of the corner of my eye and he had that look that said he was plotting something. Gabriel could see it, too, because he sighed and reluctantly said, “What, Christopher?”

Christopher stared at Gabriel for a few seconds, as if trying to gauge something or other. I didn’t want any part of it. I started to get up. “Where are you going?” Christopher asked. I thought he was talking to me, and almost answered that I was obviously going to my room to rest, but I noticed in time that he was still looking at Gabriel. Was Gabriel going somewhere? Was that why he’d cut our lesson short? 

Gabriel didn’t say anything at first. He looked like he didn’t know whether to answer or to ignore Christopher. I didn’t think he could get away with the latter, since Christopher could really be tenacious when he wanted to know something. At length, Gabriel sighed again, long suffering, and said, “An art museum.” There was strikingly little information in that reply, but Christopher seemed to find something of great interest anyway because his eyes started to shine like they usually did when he knew he was right.

“Grant has been telling me about his interest in art lately,” Christopher said casually, shooting me a look. “Could we tag along?” My shoulders instantly slumped. I wanted to glare at him. Why was dragging me into this? If he wanted an excuse, he could just say he was the one who was interested in art, and wanted to go with Gabriel. But then again, Gabriel would undoubtedly say no if it was only Christopher. If I thought about it, he’d probably used me because Gabriel usually listened to me. Which meant there was probably a good reason why Christopher wanted to go to this art museum. 

“Is that so,” Gabriel murmured, glancing at me with a brow raised. He was seeking confirmation. If I said yes, I’d be lying. But if I denied what Christopher set up, I knew he’d get cross with me and sulk for the rest of the day, and that would probably mean I wouldn’t be able to hold his hand or kiss him later. That seemed a worse punishment, at least at the moment. 

“Yes,” I said, giving what I hoped was a convincing smile. “We didn’t have any art museums in Stallchester, so I’ve never been to one.” 

Gabriel didn’t look particularly convinced. He gazed warily between me and Christopher, trying to discern our agenda. “This isn’t a leisure trip, you know,” he said, shaking his head. “The owner is a friend of mine and I’m meeting him for business.”

“Oh, no need for concern. We’ll stay well out of the way,” Christopher assured him, unfazed. That even I labored to believe. Still, I would be giving him a lousy alibi if I didn’t back him up. 

“If it’s no trouble,” I said sheepishly. “I want to bring my camera and take photographs.”

Gabriel pursed his lips and scrutinized us intensely. I tried not to look at Christopher. I was feeling a little annoyed that he had volunteered me, especially after I’d just decided I would relax for the rest of the afternoon. Well, with any luck, Gabriel would refuse us and then I could still have my peace, and Christopher wouldn’t be able to be mad at me since I played along like he wanted. 

I was in the middle of imagining spending the afternoon kissing Christopher on my bed when Gabriel cleared his throat and, with evident reluctance, acquiesced. “Very well. It may prove educational, in any case. As castle staff are busy at the moment and unable to chaperone, I have no choice but to take you at your word that you will stay out of the way. If I catch wind that you are doing anything but appreciating the art,” Gabriel’s eyes narrowed to dark, suspicious slits, “there  _ will _ be consequences.”

“Naturally,” Christopher said breezily. I did my utter best not to be visibly disappointed by this verdict and nodded. There went my rest and relaxation. I could only hope Christopher would make this up to me. 

As we were heading out the castle, I fiddled with my camera to make sure the setting would be suitable for taking photographs of paintings. Even if I didn’t actually care about art, it would have blown our cover in an instant if I didn’t do the most basic preparations. All I had to do was get a few shots and hopefully that would be enough. Christopher leaned close, breath tickling my ear, to whisper, “Thanks.” A shiver went down my spine. I nodded and forced myself not to blush.

The art museum turned out to be much more grand than I anticipated. I remembered reading  _ Peter Jenkins and the Art Historian _ , which took place in a small-scale art museum that was described as looking like an antique store. I didn’t expect to find this real art museum quite so large - it was a veritable mansion that could have rivaled Stallery - or with tickets quite so expensive. I balked a little when I heard how much Gabriel paid for our admission. “He’s friends with the owner,” I muttered to Christopher, “Can’t he get a discount or something?”

Christopher shrugged and said gravely, “Capitalism.”

We hadn’t gotten very far before a pleasant looking man in a nice suit approached and greeted Gabriel. From the way Gabriel greeted him back, I was starting to wonder if Gabriel’s story had been something of a white lie, too. There was nothing formal or business-like about their interaction as far as I could tell, and it sounded like they actually planned to have a late lunch together - but that was as much as I heard before Gabriel shot us a stern look, which was mostly directed at Christopher. It was a little charming, honestly. I’d thought Gabriel was the type of man who didn’t know how to relax, so it was nice to see that he did in fact know how to do something other than work. I said so to Christopher, who just huffed, took hold of my arm and towed me toward the start of the first exhibit.

There was something nice about walking leisurely through the exhibits with Christopher, occasionally snapping photographs. It almost felt like a date, which was a very pleasing thought. I kept stealing glances at him, particularly when he started listing information about certain paintings or painters. He knew a lot more about them than I would have expected, and he would become animated when he talked so I knew he was serious and passionate about the subject. I thought he was adorable like this.

“When you lied to Gabriel, you said I had taken an interest in art,” I said, watching him, “but it sounds like the one with the interest is you.”

Christopher grinned, and I thought I saw a faint hint of flush on his cheeks. “It’s all so fascinating, isn’t it?” he said with a nonchalant shrug that was at odds with the enthusiasm in his tone. I couldn’t relate, but I definitely liked hearing him talk about the things that interested him. He got that sort of dreamy, happy expression on his face that made me want to kiss him. If we weren’t in public, I probably would have. Even though there weren’t many people around, I was too embarrassed to do more than hold hands. 

Instead, I raised my camera and took a picture of the nearest painting. I tried to think about the facts Christopher had told me about the painting style, but everything had mixed together in my head. He made it sound so easy, memorizing all of that information. Should I try to learn more about art, too? If I did it would probably make him happy, and nothing made me happier than a happy Christopher.

Belatedly, I realized Christopher was observing me with an amused smile. “W-what is it?” I asked. I wasn’t sure why, but that smile made me feel flustered. Maybe it was because I could tell he was getting ready to do or say something silly and potentially embarrassing. He didn’t respond at first. He just took a step closer and swept his eyes up and down me, his smile widening. I couldn’t help shrinking back a bit, suddenly self conscious. “What are you doing?” I tried again. 

“Appreciating the  _ art _ ,” Christopher said. He met my eyes when he said art and smirked, so I knew he was talking about me. My face grew very warm and very red. I wondered how he could say something so corny like that and not feel completely ridiculous. But, then again, that seemed to be what Christopher had a knack for. 

I wanted to get him back for it. I knew I wasn’t as clever as him, but I glimpsed the signs plastered around the museum and a thought came to me. He reached for my hand, probably intent to keep walking, but I held my hand out of reach and shook my head. He frowned. I pointed at one of the signs and, with a sheepish smile, said, “I’m not supposed to touch the  _ masterpiece _ .” 

Christopher blinked at me. My face felt warmer than ever. Then, before I could process what was happening, he jumped me and knocked me off balance. We landed unceremoniously on one of the benches set up in the middle of the hall, and Christopher wrapped his arms around my neck and leaned in close.

“W-wait!” I gasped, “What if someone sees us?” 

Christopher chuckled. I felt the slight fuzzy feeling that meant he’d casted a spell, probably to make us invisible. “No one will see.” 

It didn’t take long for me to give in. After all, I’d just thought about kissing him only minutes ago, not to mention earlier before we’d even left the castle. I wasn’t about to protest. And Christopher was very, very good at kissing. 

“Say… Why did you want to come here today?” I asked a bit breathlessly. 

Christopher hummed, the sound buzzing against my lips. “Wanted to go somewhere with you,” he said. Then he kissed me without stopping, so it was a while before I got the chance to speak again. By that point, I was thoroughly out of breath. 

“A… date?” was all I could get out. Christopher laughed quietly and nodded. I went on when my voice was steadier, “Are you sure you didn’t just want to show off your art knowledge?” This earned a huff and another kiss. “For what it’s worth,” I said, smiling, “I was very impressed.” 

“You’d better be,” Christopher grumbled. But he was obviously pleased, and that pleased me as well.

“Should we get back to it, then?” I gestured down the hall. “The next exhibit looks pretty interesting. I’d love for you to tell me all about it.” The dazzling grin Christopher gave me nearly made me swoon. This more than made up for him keeping his plan a secret from me. 

After that, we were a good deal more… er, publicly affectionate. At first I worried Gabriel would find out and deem this as doing something other than appreciating the art. But what he didn’t know couldn’t hurt. Besides, thanks to Christopher’s art knowledge, I really did feel like I was appreciating the art in the true sense of the phrase. And not to echo the corny line Christopher had used earlier, but he was rather a work of art himself, so wasn’t still I keeping in line with Gabriel’s request every time I watched Christopher with hearts in my eyes as he detailed some fact or other about this painter or that painting?

I definitely thought so.


	8. pet names

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conrad is tired of being called Grant.  
> established relationship, takes place when they're adults

It was always, “Grant, this,” or “That, Grant.” Conrad was infernally tired of the moniker. He told Christopher so over dinner. “It’s been more than 15 years,” Conrad said dryly. “Can’t you call me anything else?”

And Christopher gave Conrad his vaguest, most bewildered look that even Conrad had no hope of deciphering. “Hm,” was all he offered, which made Conrad want to take him by the shoulders and shake him. There was no excuse, really, and that just made it more infuriating. Conrad sighed. He knew he’d have to accept that Christopher likely wouldn’t ever grow out of the old habit. 

Millie gave him a sympathetic look across the table. “For what it’s worth,” she said, “he still calls Mordecai Tacroy.” Conrad fought the urge to reply that at least that was fair since Tacroy had been Mordecai’s real name at some point, whereas Grant had simply been a lousy alias. 

It’s not necessarily that the name bothered Conrad; he’d long ago moved on from his uncle’s abuse, and he didn’t mind the little reminder of their time at Stallery. Still, they were full grown adults now, so Conrad thought it would only be fair that Christopher abandon the nickname. 

With another resigned sigh, he went back to eating.

\--

It came out of nowhere when Conrad was helping Christopher teach Cat about magical conduits. Conrad had just finished his demonstration and caught Christopher’s eye. Christopher smiled placidly and said, “Excellent work, darling.” 

Conrad nearly dropped his camera in shock. What had Christopher called him?? Nothing about Christopher’s demeanor was any different than usual, which made it feel unlikely that he’d been joking or teasing. Honestly, Conrad would have thought he’d imagined it, except that Cat looked just as confused, glancing between the two men with furrowed brows. 

“What was that?” Conrad tried cautiously. 

Christopher frowned at him. “I was only complimenting your explanation. Are you so oblivious to praise?” 

“That’s not…” Conrad sighed and resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose out of frustration. Was Christopher being willfully obtuse? Or did he really not understand that Conrad had been asking about the use of the pet name? “Nevermind.”

Christopher shrugged. Conrad tried not to think too hard about hearing Christopher call him  _ darling _ . His face felt rather warm.

\--

“Conrad, come take our picture!” Julia called. She and the other children were all crowded by the lumpy snowman they’d built, rosy-cheeked but clearly pleased with their work. Conrad chuckled and obliged, taking crunching steps through the snow to snap a few photographs from different angles while the children struck various poses. 

“We’ll definitely be framing those when you get them printed,” Millie said as Conrad returned to where she and Christopher were chaperoning. Conrad grinned at her. 

“Snowball fight!” Roger shouted. A well-packed snowball collided with the back of Conrad’s head. A second, likely hurled by Janet, who looked highly pleased with herself, hit his arm. 

Conrad shook his head and rolled his eyes affectionately. “Watch out for the camera,” he called, then stooped and made a snowball himself, which he threw back toward the group of them. They all laughed and scattered to dodge the impact.

“I suppose we’d better join them,” Millie chuckled, eyes shining with childish amusement. 

“Undoubtedly,” Christopher said. His expression was flat, but Conrad could see the slight hint of mischief tugging at the corners of his lips. Meanwhile, Conrad had already made another snowball and tossed it at Roger. It would have missed had Christopher not last minute redirected it to land on top of the boy’s head. Roger broke into peals of laughter and cursed at the sensation of cold snow falling down his neck. “Nice shot, dearest,” Christopher said with a minute smirk. 

Conrad’s heart fluttered. Again? He dropped it so casually that Conrad once again thought he’d misheard. “Prig,” he muttered, quickly looking away. “You’re the one who made sure it hit.”

Christopher opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, the snowball that Cat had thrown hit Christopher right in the face. Christopher stood stock-still. His expression became very vague. Millie and Conrad exchanged a look and burst out laughing.

“You’d better watch out, my loves,” Millie called, “he has a rather competitive streak.”

The snowball fight was intensive. Conrad had a thoroughly enjoyable afternoon. But, he couldn’t get Christopher’s voice out of his head.  _ Dearest _ , he’d said. It repeated over and over until Conrad could only sigh and cover his face.

\--

There were more after that. Conrad swiftly lost count of how often Christopher called him some affectionate pet name as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It never failed to make him blush. In some ways, this was worse than simply being called Grant. Conrad had never fared very well with public displays of affection, and being called  _ darling _ over dinner in front of everyone was more than a little public.

Exasperated, Conrad confronted Christopher later that evening. “Out with it,” he said. 

Christopher stared at him in bewilderment. “Out with what?”

Conrad frowned exaggeratedly, already feeling blush dust his cheeks. “Why do you keep…” He faltered. This was embarrassing. “W-what’s with the pet names?”

“The…” Christopher’s brows furrowed as he thought. “What do you mean?” For a second, Conrad thought Christopher was feigning ignorance. Then Christopher went on, “You said you didn’t want to be called Grant anymore. What else should I call you?” 

Conrad couldn’t help gaping. Was that what this was about? If it were anyone else, Conrad would accuse them of being petty and teasing. But this was Christopher, whose countenance screamed honesty. For whatever reason, he’d genuinely come to the conclusion that terms of endearment were the only other option.

“My  _ name _ , Christopher,” he said, incredulous and fond. “I just wanted you to call me by my name.”

Christopher looked more bewildered now, and perhaps a bit guilty. “Then you should have said that,” he said after a moment, clearing his throat. “Even so, your reactions were quite charming. I might stick with the pet names.” Conrad glared half-heartedly, which made Christopher chuckle and step closer, planting a brief kiss to his lips. “I jest, Con. You have my sincere apologies if I made you uncomfortable.”

Conrad hadn’t expected him to apologize. He blushed more brightly and wrapped his arms around Christopher’s waist. “... It wasn’t so bad,” he admitted. Though it certainly wasn’t good for his heart. “I don’t mind, as long as you don’t do it all the time.”

“Is that so,” Christopher murmured, grinning. Conrad hoped he wouldn’t regret this.


End file.
